They Are Your Monkeys
A child gazed upon a jester, whom appeared to be in distress
"Why do you seem so down, Mr. Clown?" She did request
The clown gasped, for this child could easily see he was depressed
He silently frowned, looking down, and then he scratched at his chest
He took to himself, frantically thinking of a lie to sell
For the clown had a secret that he hid very well
And, he had a vast variety of methods for portrayal
For this clown was exceptionally poetic, though his own books wouldn't sell
Then he realized, that the truth might cause her dismay, somehow
So, he would help this child laugh, until sweat dripped from her brow
So, he told her not of the troublesome day, that had spun his smile around,
And, he simply made up a story called "They are your monkeys now"
And, as he finished the tale, his own expression, you see
Was a look of pure joy! For, he had filled this child with glee!
"Encore! Bravo!" The child cheered and clapped amicably
And, they both continued to laugh together, uncontainably
After a while, they stopped to rest, it seemed the laughing had cleared the air
The clown took a small breath, wiped his brow, and then he declared
"I'm not sad, child. I am fine, smile, and do not stay despaired.
How could I be sad? Seeing your face turn red from my tale, shows that you cared!""
The point of this tale. Try it, and you might be amazed
You can rid yourself of troubles, for just a few days
Your fears, worries, and all your crappy greys
If you ignore the world's negativity, your frown may float away into the haze
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